Lifelong Love Letter
by EbonyBeach
Summary: After five years of loving each other in secret, she can't believe he's almost hers. Olitz from the end of season 2, wandering happily off into AU.
1. January 2013 - Part One

**I started writing this, my first foray into Scandal (I just fell head-over-heels for Olitz), as a collection of one-shots with the loose theme of 'Navy'. It's grown into a mini-universe, mainly in my head but a fair amount on my laptop, which begins at the end of season 2 and wanders happily off into AU territory. Here, Fitz first got elected in 2008.**

**I'd love to hear what you think. And please excuse any Brit-isms.**

II

_JANUARY 2013_

She answers on the first ring.

"Mr President."

"Only for... thirty six more hours."

"Wow."

"I know."

Five years expands in the silence between them. Five years of loving each other in secret; of moments stolen from reality, from dreams. Kisses in the corner of the Oval, her back pressed into the window and her fingers curling into his hair. Whispers down the phone, smiles heard but not seen, love woven through every word. The color of her skin on white sheets - in hotels, in her bed. In his, once, at three in the morning when even the Secret Service weren't watching. The fights, the tears, the heartbreak; the making up, making love... making plans.

Plans which are happening now, at last.

"Do you regret not running for a second t-"

"No."

"Fitz..."

"Liv."

Her breathing changes and he can see the tears in her eyes before he hears them in her voice. "I can't believe you're almost mine."

"I was _always_ yours, Livvie. Right from the moment I laid eyes on you: before I was President; before I was divorced. You've waited so long, sweet baby. We're almost there now."

"I hope you're worth it," she teases softly, and it fills his heart with joy.

"Oh I will be." His voice sounds husky to his own ears. "I will make sure of it every day for the rest of my life, starting the day after tomorrow."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

"I'm counting on it."

They laugh, and he has never felt closer to freedom. He will miss his job, his staff, his home, but it's all relative. Compared to the life he is about to begin, there is nothing to miss and everything still to come.

"Are you settling into the house?" he asks. "I wish I was there with you."

"It's huge, and quiet, and beautiful. I still can't believe you built all of this for us, Fitz."

"It's Vermont; it's our dream," he tells her simply, because there is nothing else to say. "Where are you?"

"Sitting outside on the porch, wrapped up in blankets. It's freezing but it's such a clear night I had to come outside. The sky is navy blue and full of stars. It's so... vast. Frightening. You may be one of the most important men in the world but in the universe you and I, we're nothing. It's... breathtaking."

_You're_ _breathtaking_, he wants to say but doesn't, because it's cheesy and she will probably laugh at him. Even though it's true. Even though everything she is, and does, and says, takes his breath away. Her eyes and her mouth and her smile; the way she giggles when he kisses her neck and, later, how she sighs and whimpers and digs in her fingernails.

How she fixes problems with so much style, so much grace. How she fixed him. He cannot bear to think of the man he might be right now if Olivia Pope had not saved him from his cold, loveless marriage to a woman a thousand times her inferior.

"I love you so much," he says with an urgency that surprises him. "_You_ are my universe, Livvie. And here, you are _everything_."

"Fitz," she breathes and he can picture her beautiful face, the tears on her eyelashes, and exactly where he would kiss her if only he was there. "I love you too. So much."

"I'll see you in thirty six hours, baby."

"I'll be here, waiting."

There is a pause, both of them smiling into the phone.

"Goodnight, Mr President." She laughs softly. "I'm going to miss saying that."

"Feel free to use it any time you like," he says suggestively, making her laugh some more. "You know what happens when you do..."

"Goodnight Fitz," she says more firmly, though it's laced with amusement. "No teasing your poor, lonely girlfriend."

"I'm poor and lonely too."

"And I'm hanging up now. Goodnight."

"Goodnight beautiful," he says, and then she's gone.

Thirty six hours has never felt like such a long time.

II

_Tell the world that we finally got it all right  
__I choose you  
__I will become yours and you will become mine  
I choose you  
__~ Sara Bareilles_


	2. November 2011

**A/N: Thank you for reading chapter one, and to those of you who left kind reviews. I think after last night's episode we could do with some happy Olitz, so here goes.**

II

NOVEMBER 2011

Her navy blue jacket is all he is thinking about as he stands before the press: the very same jacket he watched her button up this morning, in her bedroom, where he'd spent all night loving her, choosing her, _earning_ her until the sun was rising. He's turned on just thinking about it, her taste still warm on his lips, but now certainly isn't the right time. Later, he thinks, and means it. From now on they have later, and tomorrow, and forever. The thought makes him smile as he takes a sip of water and begins his speech, his Livvie in the corner of his eye to the right of the dais.

"Good afternoon. I am standing before you today for two reasons. The first is in response to the interview that the First Lady gave last night. I have said this before and I will say it again - my marriage is _none of your business_. However, since Mellie has made it so, I am going to tell you this: my wife and I have decided to separate, and will be filing for divorce on account of irreconcilable differences. This is for the benefit of our children, and ourselves, and has nothing to do with the allegations the First Lady made last night. Sadly we have fallen out of love, and we ask for the People's understanding as we try to work through this and figure out what is best for our family."

He doesn't pause to gauge the journalists' reaction - in all honesty he just doesn't care. His eyes read the words in front of him and his mouth forms them into sounds but his mind is so focused on the woman he loves, standing just to his side, that there is no room for anything else in his head. She didn't know that he was going to bring up the D word - no one did, not even Mellie - and he longs to turn his head and see her reaction. But if he looks, he may never look away again, so he takes a deep breath and continues his speech.

"The second reason for this address is to announce that I will not be running for a second term as President."

He thinks some of the press may have gasped but all he feels is Liv's eyes on him, wide and anxious and beautiful as she finally hears the words, in public, that he has owed her for far too long. She has waited, and waited, and he will spend the rest of his life making sure she knows how grateful he is.

"Obviously there are personal factors involved in this decision, and I have not come to it lightly. I am incredibly proud of all that we have achieved so far in this administration, and I have plans to see through over the next year to which I will continue to give my all. But while I feel I can still contribute to this great nation on a professional level after my term ends, I need to give more of myself to the people I love. The people who have supported me, who have challenged me, who have loved _me_ enough so that I can be here today. I hope the American public can understand this, and let me assure you all that I will not stop being your President, defending your freedoms and championing all American interests both here and overseas, until the minute I leave the Oval Office. No time for questions, I'm afraid. Goodbye."

They don't speak, he and Liv and Cyrus; not until they are in his office with the door firmly shut. Even then Cyrus can't speak - he's just moving his mouth, his face getting redder every second.

"Cy," Fitz says patiently, perching on the edge of his desk. "I'm sorry. I know you think I- _we_ should run again. But I can't do it. I can't do it to myself, and I can't do it to Liv."

For the first time his eyes meet hers and she's staring at him uncertainly. He frowns. "What?"

"Did Mellie know?" she whispers and he can tell she's torn between several emotions, none of which he can quite put his finger on.

"No," he admits. Is she... _mad_ at him? "Can we have the room please, Cy? We'll talk more later."

Cyrus shakes his head in obvious disbelief, mouth still hanging open. "We certainly will, Mr President!" he manages to utter at last before beating a hasty retreat, slamming the door behind him.

"Livvie, what's the matter? Aren't you happy? I know I am."

She softens then, her whole body relaxing as she crosses the room and wraps her arms around his neck. "Of course I'm happy," she sighs, and for the first time since they left the conference room, a smile curves her mouth. "I love you. I loved your speech. I'm blown away by everything you're giving up for me. But that was a shitty thing you just did to Mellie."

He raises his eyebrows as his hands settle on her waist. "What about what she did to me last night, live on national television?"

"She at least gave you a warning. And that's beside the point, Fitz. Two wrongs don't make a right," she admonishes, and she's so adorable that he pulls her closer and kisses her.

"I don't care how many wrongs I've made today," he murmurs, gazing deep into her eyes. "I've made more things right. Divorcing Mellie, ending my presidency, being with you - that's what's right, Liv. I'm just sorry it's taken so long."

He nuzzles his nose against hers and is about to kiss her senseless when he hears Mellie yelling his name from the corridor outside the office.

"You have one hell of a mess to sort out, Mr President," Olivia says with a smirk.

"Do you know a good crisis manager?"

"I know a _great_ one, but she's already got plans this evening."

"Oh yeah?" he grins. Playful, flirty Liv is his absolute favorite. "What kind of plans?"

"Scandalous plans, involving a _very_ sexy politician and a whole lot of hot, dirty nakedness... That is, if said politician thinks he can get away?"

"What a ridiculous question," he growls, because when words like 'hot' and 'dirty' come out of her beautiful mouth his whole body reacts in the most carnal way. The power she has over him is mind-blowing - she can say one word, give him a certain look, and he's instantly, painfully aroused.

He kisses her hungrily, his tongue meeting hers with such ferocity she whimpers into his mouth. His hands slip beneath the hem of her jacket and hers run down tortuously over his abs when the door crashes open and reality breaks over them again like a tidal wave. He lets out a long, low groan as they spring apart to the sound of Mellie's shouting. She pauses for a split second when she realizes what she has interrupted, and then the volume doubles and she's screaming at her husband loud enough for the whole of D.C. to hear.

Liv gives him a look that says so many things -_ Oh my god, g__ood luck; I love you; I'll see you tonight _\- before she flees without looking directly at Mellie.

And then the fun begins.

II


	3. September 2012

**Please note the rating increase... I would _love_ to hear what you guys think of this chapter! **

II

SEPTEMBER 2012

Her front door swings open and then she's standing there in front of him, all pastel pajamas and huge eyes and her adorable, shy smile which makes it difficult for him to breathe. It's been almost a week since they last saw one another - too long by anyone's standards, especially his. He wants grab hold of her; to wrap her up in his arms and kiss her until there's nothing between them but love, and sweat, and _fire_.

The first thing he does, however, is hold up his left hand. His bare, left hand. Her gaze travels and he can see the exact moment she registers what this means.

"You got the decree?" Olivia breathes, tears springing to her eyes. "It's over?"

"It's over," he confirms, and then he's laughing as she throws herself into his arms. "I'm a free man."

"I didn't see it on the news." Her voice is soft, muffled in his collar.

"I had to call in a lot of favors but we managed to hold it from the press - I wanted you to be the first to know. I would have gotten here sooner but I had three _very_ tedious security briefings to sit through first."

"I don't care, you're here now. Fitz, this is amazing," she says, an enormous smile on her face as she leans back to look up at him. "So Teddy is definitely staying with you?"

The last thing he wants to do right now is _talk_, especially with Olivia's mouth so tantalizingly close to his. "Teddy's staying with me. With _us_," he says, just a little impatiently. "Karen and Jerry get alternate holidays, although they're old enough now that we'll let them choose for themselves. I just can't believe it's taken this long to get here - if Mellie hadn't changed her damn mind every other week we'd have sorted this out months ago.

"Anyway," he goes on, squeezing her tighter, making his intentions clearer, "enough of that. We are going to celebrate my freedom by taking off all our clothes and having a _lot_ of very fantastic sex."

"We are, are we?"

"Yes, we are."

She squeals as he lifts her up into his arms and claims her mouth in a series of deep, soft kisses. As long as he lives, he will _never_ get enough of kissing Olivia Pope.

"Fitz," she protests weakly when he eventually trails his lips along her jaw. "I have... Champagne."

"Hmm?"

"In the… _Ahh-_" Her words are interrupted by a moan as he sneaks a hand up her top and squeezes her breast, his thumb caressing her nipple through the lace of her bra. The sound makes him lightheaded with desire. "...Fridge."

Fitz lifts his head and gazes at her through his eyelashes. "How did you know?"

"I bought it months ago." She is still breathless and it makes his heart pound harder, seeing the effect he has on her even after all this time. "It's been waiting for this day."

"Well in that case..." He kisses her once more and walks them to her kitchen, depositing her on the counter before shrugging off his jacket and tie and then opening the refrigerator. Champagne in hand, he stands back between her legs, pressing himself right up against her, and pops the cork.

"Glasses are in- " she begins to say, but stops when he take a swig straight from the bottle.

After he has managed to swallow the bubbles without coughing, he chuckles at the look on her face. "Come on Livvie, live a little. I'm a single man again - that means you're no longer my 'mistress' or my 'whore', or any of those other disgusting words you've been tarred with in the past. You're my _girlfriend_. We could get married right now, if we wanted." She raises her eyebrows and he laughs. "Ok, maybe not right now. Maybe next week." He leans in to nuzzle her neck.

"Uh huh," she murmurs, taking the bottle and raising it to her lips.

He runs his hands beneath her top, lifting up the material as he goes until it's over her head and on the floor. She's wearing a beautiful navy blue bra, all silk and lace and so much _skin_. His hips flex of their own accord, pushing his erection into her core and making them both catch their breath.

"You are so gorgeous," he sighs, kissing her lips, her chin, her collarbone. He cups her breasts and circles her nipples with his thumbs, in awe of how exquisite she looks when she tips her head back like that, inviting his mouth onto to her neck where he sucks and nibbles on her skin. "I really want to fuck you right here."

"_Fitz_."

She says his name like a prayer, like she's lost and helpless and he's the only way out, and he knows he'll never tire of hearing it as long as he lives. He slips one hand into the front of her pajama pants, into her panties, feeling with one long finger how gloriously wet and warm she is.

"I love you," he whispers urgently. "Look at me Liv."

When her gaze meets his, her eyes so dark and so full of a longing that makes his chest constrict, he smiles - really truly smiles, because she's beautiful and she's his and he's so damn happy he just can't do anything else.

"I love you," he says again, now circling her clit with his finger, watching the expressions of ecstasy on her face with unending curiosity. "I'm yours, and you're mine, forever."

She doesn't say anything - she can't, he knows - and that makes his smile wider as he leans forward and kisses her. Her lips open to him immediately, welcoming his tongue with hers as she finally seems to regain some control of her limbs. She buries both hands in his hair, guiding his head as she kisses him with everything she has, moaning into his mouth in the most arousing way. Her ankles hook around his thighs, pulling him even closer, grinding her center against his finger, his hand, his cock. Then she seems to change her mind, releasing his head to put her hands on the counter and push her hips up - he gets the hint straight away and slides her silky pajamas and lacy blue thong down her legs.

She reaches for him again but he is already kneeling down, pushing her thighs apart and putting his mouth on her with no preamble; none of his usual teasing kisses or nips on her skin. Right now, when she's so wet and bare and he's _so_ in love with her, he just can't wait. She tastes of Liv, all soft and slick and oh so responsive to his tongue and his lips and his teeth.

His cock is painfully hard, trapped inside his boxers and pants, and he almost decides to undo his belt. But it's not long at all before she is shivering and murmuring _"Fuck" _in just that way, and he realizes he doesn't have time for distractions because she's about to come apart beneath him. He enters her with his fingers and softly strokes her as his mouth continues its incessant rhythm on her clit. _Lick up and down, circle clockwise, counterclockwise, gently suck; lick up and down..._

She comes with such force he's surprised, even though he was expecting it, and she's done it again - blown his mind. Sometimes he wonders if there's anything left in his head for her to explode, but somehow she always manages it. He stands, stretching his legs, his gaze rising over her body which is bare except for that lovely bra. Her eyes open slowly, dark and dazed, and Fitz smiles and presses sweet kisses all over her face before gathering her into his arms again.

"I thought you wanted to fuck in the kitchen," she breathes, clutching his shoulders as he carries her into her bedroom and gently lays her down on the bed beneath him.

"I did, and then I realized that I don't want to _fuck_ my new girlfriend; this beautiful, amazing woman who is the love of my life." His voice is low, tender, and there are tears shining in her eyes now. "I want to make love to her. I want to show her - _you__, _Livvie - how much I love you; how much you mean to me. I want to make you shatter beneath me and know, for the first time, that this is forever."

He does just that, their lovemaking all soft angles and open eyes, linked fingers and desperate moans and kisses so hot he can already feel the bruise on his lips. He comes with her in perfect time, their mouths connected, muscles rigid and trembling as he clings to her and loses his grip on reality for several raw, exquisite moments. They have had a lot of incredible sex in the past but there are no words to describe this. He suspects it's just the emotion of the day catching up with him but his eyes are stinging and every breath is shaky, and all he can do is bury his face in her neck and murmur over and over just how much he loves her.

They stay wrapped up in each other for hours after that, just _being_, together; finally, after almost five years, free. At some point she fetches the Champagne and they drink from the bottle again until he spills some - deliberately, although he denies it - on her chest. Then it's all his tongue and her heavenly skin, and when he's thoroughly cleaned up his mess, they kiss for the longest time until he cannot hold back one _second_ longer and connects them with a deep, body-shaking thrust.

Her name comes out of his mouth but it's more of a growl than a properly formed word, such is the hot, wet relief and the desperate agony of finally being inside her again. He wants to both savor the feeling and start pounding into her at the same time; to bask in this high but give in to the almost-overwhelming urge to take them higher.

"I love you so much," Olivia gasps, rocking her pelvis as she settles him deeper inside of her. The look on her face matches his conflicted thoughts so exactly that he smiles.

"Love you too," he replies, nuzzling her nose with his before returning his mouth to hers. As soon as they kiss, she pushes up against him until he's on his back and she's riding him, not losing their connection for a second. He has a lot of favorite sights in this world - his children, healthy and happy; California sunsets from the ranch; the Pacific Ocean during a storm - but Olivia Pope straddling him and slowly fucking him out of his _mind_ is right at the top of the list. It doesn't come naturally to him to relinquish control in the bedroom but when he does she likes to take full advantage: rolling her hips and brushing her hard nipples against his chest; sucking and biting on his neck and ears; smiling the whole time because she knows she is driving him crazy.

After a few minutes she sits back and begins to touch herself, one hand on her breast and the other between her legs, her gaze locked on his. Fitz has to fight against every instinct to stop himself from grabbing her and fucking her - _hard_. Her smile fades when she sees the look on his face, no doubt an expression of the inferno of desire which is burning inside of him, and she whimpers when he begins to meet her downwards movements with a slight upwards thrust of his hips.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he says hoarsely, gripping her thighs as he begins to increase their pace. Her dark eyes are focused on his but her eyelids are starting to close, her breaths now coming in pants. "I need you to come soon, Livvie. You feel so fucking good, so wet and tight. Watching you touch yourself like that is insanely hot."

He can feel her body trembling now and he sits up, using one arm for support on the bed and wrapping the other around her so he can thrust up into her, hard and fast and relentless. Olivia moans as she dips her head and kisses him, her tongue wrapping around his, continuing to rub her clit between their bodies. When he trails his mouth down to her breast and takes her nipple between his teeth, she arches her back and then makes the most arousing sound as she starts to come. He goes with her, having been right on the edge ever since she first straddled him.

"Oh my god," is all she can say and it makes him smile as they fall back so she's lying on his chest. She presses kisses all over his damp skin and he traces patterns on her spine with his fingertips as their breathing slows.

After a minute she lifts her chin and looks at him, running her fingers through his hair. "Baby, that was…"

"What?" he asks, when all she does is sigh happily. "Is the great Olivia Pope actually lost for words?"

"Maybe."

"Wow. I must be good, huh?"

She giggles and kisses him several times before climbing off of him. "No comment. I wouldn't want to inflate your ego any further."

"Not possible - I already made you speechless," he says proudly, swatting her backside.

They clean up in the bathroom and then brush their teeth together, gazing at each other in the mirror with silly smiles on their faces like love struck adolescents. He has waited so long to finally be able to do this with her - to be normal, domestic, free - and it's just the best feeling in the world.

She snuggles into him in bed in the dark, her back to his front, pulling his arm around her tightly. "This has been amazing," she murmurs, bringing his hand to her lips so she can kiss his fingers. Fitz squeezes her even closer and just breathes her in, completely at peace for the first time in years.

"I know. And in a few months' time this will be our life, sweet baby. We'll go to sleep like this and wake up together and I'll carry on making you speechless every single day."

She starts to laugh but it turns into a yawn. "I hope so. And by the way, you're naughty, Fitzgerald Grant. You can never give me complete control. You always take it back right at the… end."

She finishes her sentence in another yawn, this time making him follow suit.

"I'm sorry. I just can't help myself."

She doesn't reply for a while and he thinks maybe she's fallen asleep. But she does speak again, a minute later; her words so quiet he barely catches them.

"I think next time I should tie you up."

And now, even though he's bone tired and thoroughly sated, desire stirs in him again and he marvels at how this sensational woman continues to surprise him. "_I love you_," he whispers, wonder in his voice. "And I will never stop loving you. You are _everything_."

Olivia just snuggles further into him with a contented sigh, right on the edge of dreams. When he follows minutes later, it's the best night's sleep he's had in years.

II


	4. January 2012

**A/N: thank you so much for all the feedback you guys have left for me. I am so, so pleased you're enjoying the story so far. I hope you like this next part too!**

II

JANUARY 2012

"Take off that shirt, Olivia."

"No."

"Take. It. Off."

The way he growls sets her blood on fire. The way he _looks_ sets her on fire: eyes dark, mouth open; body hard and tense - waiting to pounce. She is already turned on beyond belief and the temptation to end this game, to simply cross the small living room of the Camp David cabin to him instead of circling it like a pair of wild animals, is almost too much to resist. But she has spent all day setting this up and she isn't going to let all her effort go to waste.

"No," she says again, grinning like the Cheshire Cat at the look of exasperation on his face. "You'll have to take it off me yourself... if you can catch me!"

And she turns and runs for the bedroom, squealing when she hears his footsteps close behind her. She leaps onto the bed and stands in the middle, facing him when he comes through the door. "Stop right there," she commands, breathless with exhilaration, holding out both hands in front of her.

But he doesn't stop. He slows his pace and almost saunters forward to the foot of the bed until his knees hit the mattress, and _holy fuck_ he's hot. He looks up at her, all the way from her toes along her bare legs, pausing at the hem of the t-shirt she is wearing which sits just covering her underwear. His gaze stops again at her breasts, her nipples taut against the gray material, and when his eyes finally meet hers they are almost black with desire. He smiles a small, dangerous smile. It's the smile he gives her when he's about to do something _very_ naughty - usually when he's slinking his way down her body, licking his lips.

"I would like my shirt back." His voice is so deep she can almost feel it vibrate in her bones. "Please, Olivia. Please take it off."

She can feel her resolve weakening with every slow, measured word. He's playing her and they both know it - just like they both know he will win in the end. He always does. She used to pretend he didn't affect her this much - that he couldn't control her with just a look, a touch, the faintest whisper of a kiss - but she no longer denies it.

"No," she repeats breathlessly, backing away towards the pillows as he reaches for her. "I like this shirt."

She lifts up the hem so she can read the letters that spell NAVY across her chest. In doing so, of course, she bares her panties, abdomen and the underside of her breasts to his unforgiving gaze, making him growl low in his throat.

"You are such a fucking tease," he says, and there's a little speck of genuine malice in it which makes her grin. Winding him up is _fun_.

"And what does that make you, baby? My victim?"

"Horny! Really, _really_ fucking horny." He begins to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers, and her heart rate skyrockets. "You've sent me pictures of parts of your lovely, naked body all day while I've been stuck in emergency meetings - meetings I wasn't supposed to be stuck in _because I am on vacation_ \- and then when I finally get back here you're wearing nothing but my t-shirt and some obscenely tiny panties... and you won't let me see you!"

He throws his shirt to the side and pulls off his belt. "So I'm only going to say it one more time, _baby_. Take. It. Off!"

She shakes her head as his pants and boxers fall to the floor and he begins to crawl up the bed towards her. "No!"

"Olivia Pope, _take off my damn shirt_. _Right. Now!_"

Her back is flat against the wall now and he's coming for her, lust written all over his gorgeous face, intensifying the thrum of desire between her legs and making her wetter by the second. She's so turned on by his commands, by the authority in his voice, that she thinks she might explode the second he touches her. Then she starts to giggle, because the President of the United States is naked and prowling towards her like a wild cat, and it is as ridiculous as it is arousing.

"Tell me one more time Fitz," she breathes, still laughing, and if he reaches out his arm he's going to make contact with her bare skin and she doesn't know what will happen then, only that it will be glorious.

"I am going to give you three seconds to get naked, and then I'm going to..." He suddenly grabs her hips and tugs her towards him, pressing his mouth right on her center through the lace of her panties. She feels him suck hard on her clit and then swirl his tongue over her, just once, sending an almighty wave of pleasure radiating out to every cell in her body and causing her knees to give way.

"Take it off yourself," she somehow manages to say as they fall onto the mattress, and he grins as he pushes the material up her body and over her head, covering her skin with wet, open-mouthed kisses as he goes.

"So I win?" he murmurs cheekily against her lips, just before he ravishes her.

It feels like minutes of his lips and teeth and his clever, clever tongue until she's gathered enough oxygen to reperfuse her brain. She pushes her panties aside and holds him in position as she hooks her legs around his waist. Then, with an upwards surge of her hips, she takes him all the way in to the hilt.

"How about we both win?" she gasps as he fills her so exquisitely. She's close already.

"I'm... okay with that."

"Okay then."

II

Later they sit curled up on the sofa in front of a roaring fire, drinking red wine and sharing a tub of Ben and Jerrys. It's snowing outside and Olivia feels so content in their little cocoon, hidden away from the eyes of the world. Since Fitz announced his intention to divorce his wife two months ago, rumors and speculation about the end of their marriage are still in the news every single day. The main topic of discussion, of course, is the identity of the President's alleged mistress, or _mistresses_ as many gossip columns are claiming, drudging up the old Amanda Tanner storyline. Fitz had been trying to stay above it all and get on with his job, but the constant questions were getting to him and so a week at Camp David in the New Year seemed like a no-brainer.

Especially once Olivia agreed to join him. Initially she was skeptical - it didn't seem possible she could get here unnoticed, but Tom proved himself once again. And if she was spotted, she would simply say she was working with the President to manage his public image during this difficult time. It was risky, and her former self would have absolutely refused to take that risk, but when Fitz phoned her and asked her so sweetly if she would like to go away with him, she couldn't say no - and she didn't want to. Spending time with him is her favorite thing in the world; in fact, she's beginning to think she could happily stay here, just the two of them, for the rest of her life.

"I have something for you," he says now, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder where the collar of his shirt has slipped down. After he was so insistent about having his Navy t-shirt back earlier, she decided she had no choice but to put on his pale blue button-up. The look on his face when she emerged from the bedroom wearing just that and a clean pair of underwear made desire curl deep in her belly once again; desire which is still patiently resting there, burning a little warmer every time he smiles at her or his lips meet her skin. It's oddly comforting, being able to sit with him and enjoy the slow crescendo of arousal, knowing they have all night (and the next, and the next) to make the most of it. They are so used to being rushed, to stealing thirty minutes whenever they can and forcing all their passion to explode to fill that time, that this is entirely new territory. And it is _incredible_.

Fitz gets up now and she immediately misses his warmth, his body. She watches the way he moves, mesmerized by the muscles beneath his snug t-shirt; by the length of his legs in his blue plaid pajama pants and his very cute ass. She wonders if she will ever get enough of him, if she will ever lose this fascination with everything he is and does and says. She hopes not.

He's rummaging through a pile of paperwork on the table and glances at her over his shoulder, catching her staring. "Like what you see?" he asks with a smirk.

She smiles sweetly in return. "Yep."

Fitz's face softens then as he turns towards her - he was obviously expecting a playful, sarcastic reply. His blue eyes are suddenly blazing, so full of love that she feels her breath catch in her throat.

"_I love you,_" he says, his voice low with emotion; caressing the words like they're the most precious in his vocabulary. He walks back to the sofa and kneels down on the floor in front of her, placing a few sheets of paper beside him before taking both her hands in his.

Olivia sits up straighter, anticipation now filling the air around them. She studies his face in the firelight, taking in every line and curve, and finds herself thinking that her memory never does him justice in the times they're apart. She can't capture him in her mind - he's too bright, too dynamic, too _alive_ \- and it makes her heart ache that being together every day, being free, is not their normality.

"Livvie," Fitz says softly, bringing her back to him. He looks so sincere and so beautiful that she feels herself welling up. "I can't kneel here and give you what I want to give you most of all. Not yet. But I will, one day. I hope you know that."

They've talked about marriage before but it has never felt so possible, so _real_ until this very moment. Olivia finds that tears are gathering on her eyelashes, slipping down her cheeks. "I do," she whispers, and the way he smiles and gently brushes his fingertips over her face just makes the tears come faster. There is nothing she wants more in the world than to belong to Fitzgerald Grant - officially, freely and forever.

"Even without a ring, without the legal documentation, I am yours Liv. There isn't a piece of me that doesn't belong to you."

His words echo her thoughts perfectly, making her smile through her tears. "I know," she says simply. She takes his face in her palms and presses her lips to his, pouring all of her love for him into every sweet, slow kiss. His breathing changes and she recognizes it is not just from desire but from raw emotion. She has never known another man who is so open, so trusting, so vulnerable. It still scares her - the sheer weight of his love for her, the absolute conviction in his eyes - but not like it used to. He loves deeply, profoundly; without pause or question. He doesn't have a choice.

And neither does she. Not being in love with him just isn't an option anymore - it never was, she knows now. Loving Fitz is what makes her breathe, what makes her _live_; what she gets up for in the morning and goes to sleep dreaming of. He gives her hope, strength, laughter and light. He fills every waking thought, every pore; all the spaces between her fingers and the old wounds in her heart. He's in every word she speaks, everything she does, and all the versions of herself she is and hopes to become.

There would be no Olivia Pope without him, and once upon a time she would have raged against that very concept: that she needs a man to be herself, to help define her. But the simple truth is, he doesn't define her. He raises her up. He elevates her to a place where she feels invincible; where she is stronger and more beautiful and more brilliant than she could ever be alone. It makes her think of a line by one of her favorite authors: she didn't fall in love with Fitzgerald Grant… she rose in it.

_They_ rose in it, and they continue to rise every single day.

"I am so in love with you," she says now, gazing into his eyes once again, their noses still touching. Those words come so much more easily than they once had. A lifetime of associating love with loss, with distance, with disappointment, had left her terrified of playing the one card she always kept closest to her chest. Sometimes she is even envious of Fitz for the ease with which he embraces love; for the innocence and the purity of his heart. It is one of the many reasons she will do everything in her power to make sure it is never broken again.

She used to be so afraid of being honest with him, but not anymore. They've been through too much, fought and lost and loved _too much_. They have no secrets now; they're bare, and it's thrilling and real and just _everything_.

"I am so in love with you too," Fitz smiles, kissing the corners of her mouth, her cheekbones, her eyebrows. "I love you beyond words; beyond sense, sometimes."

Olivia giggles at his playful tone, watching as he studies her face with childlike curiosity. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and then meets her gaze again, still smiling. "You are very distracting, Livvie. I had this whole speech prepared and now I can't seem to stop staring at you."

"Do you want me to turn around? Hide under the blanket?"

She attempts to pull the material over her head but is stopped by his big hands. "Don't you dare," he chides. "No hiding that beautiful face. I don't know what I'd do without it."

Sometimes he says the simplest things and her heart seems to do back flips in her chest. She's sure he can tell - he knows her body better than she does.

"I have a gift for you," Fitz says, a mischievous light in his eyes confirming her suspicions that he knows the effect he has on her. He picks up the papers from the floor and hands them to her. "The day after the press conference - when you _finally_ let me leave your apartment - I bought you this. Well, it's for both of us."

She flicks through the sheets: there are photos of land and mountains, of foundations being put in. Then there's a beautiful sketch of a house and behind that, two pages floor plans. She doesn't need to ask to know what this is, and she can take a pretty good guess at its location as well. Love fills her, sweeping through every cell, flooding her veins and taking the breath from her lungs.

"I've had my eye on this land for almost a year," Fitz tells her, and pauses.

She quickly catches the significance of his words and stares at him, tears pricking her eyes. "Through Defiance? When we weren't speaking?"

"I loved you every minute of every day we were apart."

"Oh Fitz," she breathes, and she's crying again as she throws her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. He strokes her hair and soothes her. "I don't know what to say," she whispers.

"You don't have to say anything. Well, maybe a 'thank you'."

She laughs then, drawing back to look at him. "_Thank you_. I can't believe this." She studies the picture of the house again - it is just beautiful; exactly what she would have chosen. "Fitz it's gorgeous. It's perfect. It is in Vermont, right?"

He throws back his head and laughs, deep and rich. The sound arouses her in ways she can't explain. "No, they were all out of land in Vermont. We're moving to Iowa, baby," he teases, and she nudges his arm with her elbow.

"Seriously though, Liv. If you want to change anything about the house, you can. They've put in most of the foundations already but there's room for negotiation. I wanted to wait until it was all built and then just take you there one day, but I got too excited."

He is so sweet sometimes, so boyish, and it makes her heart sing. "I'm sure it's already perfect, Fitz."

"Well, we can look over the architect's designs properly in the morning. I've also been thinking about how it's going to work with your job - I know Vermont is far away, but the house is only ten miles from the airport. Or if you want to just spend weekends there, we can live in Washington during the week. We'll have to get another house - I don't think your apartment is big enough for me _and_ Teddy."

He frowns suddenly. "Am I freaking you out? Sorry. I just have so many ideas, so many plans for when I'm finally- "

"No," Olivia interrupts, pressing her finger to his lips. "I'm not freaking out. I'm just… processing. It's been less than five minutes since I've found out you're building us a house in Vermont." She smiles then, and kisses him. "You're building us our dream, Fitz. It's finally coming true."

He slides his fingers into her hair and draws her back to him for another kiss. "This time next year we will be together, properly, with our house in Vermont and with Teddy. I promise you, Liv. This is happening. This is real. I _will_ be divorced and I _will_ be marrying you and making beautiful babies with you."

The way he talks, with so much conviction in his voice, turns her on so much - it always has, and she hopes it always will. He's so powerful, so _sure_, and coupled with his very close proximity and the emotion of the last half hour Olivia feels desire rise up inside her. She recognizes the fire in his eyes too and as she leans in again he beats her to it, claiming her mouth hungrily, his tongue hot and insistent. She moans, her body arching into him of its own accord until they're lying back on the floor in front of the fireplace. His hands are everywhere at once, stripping off her shirt and panties, rolling her onto her back.

When he goes down on her she sees stars, his mouth so warm and wet, his teeth so gentle yet so torturous. He doesn't let her go until she's come twice, the second so hard it took almost everything out of her, but as soon as he crawls up her body and she feels just how much he wants her, she is ready for him once again.

"Fuck, Livvie," he breathes as he makes love to her, interlacing their fingers and gazing at her with such adoration in his eyes. "I will never get over how incredible you are. I will never be able to stop loving you, to stop wanting you. You're everything to me."

He kisses her and she lets go of every thought in her head, overwhelmed by him yet again. Each thrust of his hips brings her closer to heaven and when her orgasm finally hits, she barely recognizes the sounds that come out of her mouth. Her whole body is trembling from head to toe and then Fitz comes too, sending yet more waves of the sweetest, deepest pleasure sweeping over her.

They can't speak for a long time afterwards, awed into breathless silence. The fire crackles behind them and snow is beginning to gather on the window frames, and Olivia is struggling to find to reality because surely this is a fairytale; surely it's not possible to feel this way, like she's about to burst open with pure joy?

"Do you think this is what living together is going to be like?" Fitz asks at length, leaning up on his elbow to look at her. His voice is rough, his lips curved in the most unbelievably beautiful smile.

"I don't know. I hope so."

"Me too. Maybe we'll need to go on vacation to have a _break_ from all the mind blowing sex."

Olivia giggles and kisses his chin. "Never. But what about Teddy? I don't want to scar your youngest child."

Fitz considers her. "We can put him in preschool every day. They open seven days a week, right?"

They laugh, until he seems to sober a little. "It's going to be harder, with Teddy. Are you sure- "

"Stop talking," she interrupts, staring at him like she's never seen him before. "Fitz, Teddy is your child. You're his _father_. He belongs with you. He loves you, he _needs_ you. If you didn't give yourself to him because of me, I wouldn't want you."

She softens then, running her fingers down his cheek. "Plus, our babies are going to need their big brother to play with them; to show them the ways of the world."

"_Liv_," he breathes. There are tears in his eyes and it's almost too much for her.

"Don't," she says sternly. "No more crying. I've done more than enough tonight to last us both until next year."

He laughs instead and trails his fingertip and his gaze down the center of her body, between her breasts and over her abdomen. "What shall we do instead?"

"Shower?"

"Okay."

"Okay then."

II

_**Don't ever think I fell for you, or fell over you. I didn't fall in love, I rose in it.**_

_~ from Jazz, by Toni Morrison_


	5. May 2012

**A/N:** So sorry this has taken a while, I've just been working non-stop. Huge thanks to those who have left lovely reviews, it means the world to me.

This is one of the filthiest things I think I've ever written – maybe something to do with the three glasses of wine this evening! There is a lot of naughty language, and naughty Fitz...

Inspired by a line from Chapter 1: _The color of her skin on white sheets - in hotels, in her bed. In his, once, at three in the morning when even the Secret Service weren't watching._

* * *

**May 2012**

Fitz is still awake, reading in bed, when his 'Olivia' phone buzzes just after one AM. He's been annoyed all evening because she's celebrating Abby's birthday and he wants nothing more than to be able to go out with her and her friends. He wishes he could walk into a bar holding her hand; sit with his arm around her, claiming her as his; spend the whole night just talking to her, listening to her laugh and kissing her whenever she does.

Sometimes his job, his position, makes him feel like a prisoner. Especially now, six months after he publicly announced his intention to divorce Mellie, when no paperwork has been signed because he can't get her to agree to anything. He has been seeing more of Olivia, staying over at her apartment as often as he can get away with, but they're having to be very careful that their relationship is not uncovered before he is officially free. And it's killing him, being so close to all his dreams and yet still so far away.

He downs the rest of his glass of scotch and reads her message.

_Wish you were here. I miss you xxx_

Instantly love rises up in his chest, warm and familiar, making him smile and forget his irritation. He starts to type a response but receives another text.

_Ps. I'm a tipsy and wearing a v short dress. You'd like it. _

And now she's there in his head, all gorgeous smooth legs and perfect body, and he's angry again that he's not with her but also instantly turned on. Sometime she is _such_ a tease.

He types a reply: _I would. I'd love it. Although if I was there we'd have come home an hour ago and that dress would be on the floor by now._

She responds quickly. _You wouldn't wanna stay and dance with me? The dance floor is dark and crowded - we could do all sorts of naughty things and no one would ever know._

Fitz finds himself groaning out loud, adjusting his pajama pants over his rising erection. Olivia knows that making out with her in public is one of the more frequent of his many fantasies. She is not oblivious to the way his eyes follow her across crowded ballrooms, yearning to pull her close to him and show the world that _she_ is the wonderful, beautiful, amazing woman he loves.

_What kind of naughty things?_ he asks. _I need more information, Livvie._

This time it's a few minutes before she replies. _Sorry, Quinn bought shots! Well… I'd start off teasing you across the booth we're sat in, laughing at all your bad jokes, running my foot up your leg. No one else would notice. Then I'd casually mention I wanted to dance, and you'd casually follow me. And then…_

God, he loves her.

_And then what? Ps. I'm funny. My jokes are hilarious. _

He can picture her smirking as he takes the bait, but he's so aroused he doesn't care. He has rarely seen her tipsy but it always brings out the most playful, flirtatious side of her personality and he just can't get enough.

An immediate reply: _No you're not, baby. You're amusing at best, but you're not funny._

Fitz laughs, before reading on. Only Olivia Pope could be so snarky after just having a shot of god knows what, on top of the wine and cocktails he's sure she and her friends have already consumed.

_Anyway we'd go onto the dance floor and weave through the crowd, and then right in the center you'd put your hands on my hips and pull me against you, and I'd start grinding on you until we were all hot and sweaty…_

Fitz isn't laughing anymore, instead imagining that scenario very clearly in his mind. He waits for a minute, trying to calm down because the urge to go straight to that damn club and make her words a reality is almost overwhelming. But her next message is not what he wants to see at all.

_Got to go, Whitney! Dancing compulsory. TBC xxx_

Over the next hour and a half he almost falls asleep several times but her sporadic messages start to become even flirtier, and some are downright filthy, making his desire for her soar once again. Olivia only ever talks dirty when she's either been drinking or is _very _turned on - or both, as she is proving tonight.

_I want you to bury your face between my legs and fuck me with your tongue_ is his personal favorite so far, and when it's followed by _This is making me so horny. I really wish you were here! _Fitz decides enough is enough.

When he calls her, she picks up straight away but all he can hear initially is loud music. Then there's her lovely voice, scratchy from singing, as she excuses herself through the crowd and presumably outside where it's quieter.

"Fitz? Can you hear me now?"

"Yes. Hi."

"Hi." He can hear her smile and it makes his heart hurt with ridiculous, unending, soul-stirring love.

"I need to see you, Liv. Soon. Now. I'm sending a car to bring you here."

"What? No, you can't- "

"I can. I will, I'm going to." He hears her breath catch, no doubt in response to the hoarseness of his voice. "I need you, baby. You've been teasing me all night and I have had _enough_. I need to see you, to kiss you; to have you naked in my bed and screaming my name as I make you come over and over again. So say goodbye to your friends and get your gorgeous ass over here."

"Fitz- "

"Just do it, Olivia! Tom will be there in fifteen minutes."

II

Half an hour later, Fitz hears footsteps in the hall and then Olivia Pope is pushing his bedroom door open and he is completely blown away. She has never looked sexier than she does right now, in a figure-hugging black dress which barely covers her underwear and nude heels. Her lips are glossy, her eyes lined in black, her hair tied up in a ponytail exposing her beautiful neck. In her hand is a blazer which she drops to the floor as she closes the door behind her.

She is a _goddess_.

"Hi," she says with a small smile, her voice already thick with desire, making the air spark and crackle between them. She bites on her bottom lip, gazing at him through her eyelashes, and something in him snaps.

He's on her in four large strides, pressing her urgently into the door, trying to get as close as physically possible. She's breathing heavily, her dark eyes almost falling shut as she gazes at him, her fingers clutching his biceps. Fitz nuzzles his nose against hers and slides his palms along the backs of her thighs, pushing up her dress until he's squeezing her backside. He wants to touch every inch of her all at once. He can't get enough - he'll never be able to.

She's wearing lacy French panties which are soft against his fingers - and wet, as he finds when he slips his hand between her legs from behind. "Livvie, baby," he groans, and then he can't hold back one second longer. His lips crash down onto hers as he lifts her into his arms, hooking her legs around his waist. He grinds his rock hard erection against her center and she whimpers and grinds right back again. The friction coupled with the urgency of her tongue in his mouth, her moans filling the air around them and the last two hours' foreplay, has him right on the edge already.

But there is one thing he wants - _needs_ \- to do first. He's been thinking about tasting her, about having her in his mouth, on his tongue, for days now. It's been about two weeks since he last did so and he is _hungry_. Especially when she's already begged him for it and she's so fucking horny, so amazingly wet.

He presses her body more firmly into the door and withdraws from their kiss, leaving her gasping for breath, her lips pink and swollen.

"Do you like these panties, beautiful?" He barely recognizes his own voice, deep and raspy. He runs his finger over her through the lace, pressing several quick circles to her clit which makes her back arch and the most delicious sounds leave her mouth.

"You can have them," she whimpers, her eyes closed in ecstasy, and the submission in her voice is exactly what he wanted to hear. "They're yours, Fitz."

He fists the material and pulls, ripping them at the seams, leaving her bare to him. Then he begins to kneel down, slowly raising each of her legs over his shoulders until he's face to face with her pussy.

"Mmm," he sighs, resting his mouth lightly against her and letting the sound vibrate through her. "I love your cunt, Livvie."

He licks her clit, teasing her with just the tip of his tongue, and she writhes and cries out. He can feel her abdominal and thigh muscles trembling, his hands holding her hips firmly against the door.

"You taste _so good_. Do you have any idea? You're fucking delicious."

He is desperate to bury his tongue inside her, to _really_ taste her, but he also loves to tease. So he remains focused on her clit: flicking lightly, drawing small circles with his tongue; never quite putting on enough pressure to push her over the edge.

"Fuck, Fitz," she moans, her hands pulling his hair almost to the point of pain. "I need to come. Please! Fuck, fuck, _fuck_…"

Having her in his bedroom, in the White House Residence, crying out expletives while he goes down on her, is close to the most aroused Fitz has _ever_ felt. This is what he wants, every day of his life. This is what normality should be. This is what's _right_. And the longer he tortures her, the more overwhelming the need to fuck her is; to really make her scream and to quench the fire deep in his groin. But he is a patient man when it comes to Olivia, and the need to make her feel amazing, to make her _shatter_, is even stronger.

"Mmm," he murmurs again, opening his mouth a little further and very gently sucking on her clit. Her back arches so suddenly he struggles to keep his balance, and she screams out his name. When he repeats the move, sucking and then flicking her with his tongue again, her whole body tenses and she begins to come - loudly.

Fitz doesn't stop there, though. He starts a downward trail of kisses, his mouth open, tasting her with his tongue. He's French-kissing her pussy and now she's coming again, just seconds after her first. He's never heard her make sounds like this before - so animalistic, so raw, so exquisite. He's so turned on he can barely think but he finally buries his tongue in her, warm and slick and still contracting. She tastes as he expected - like heaven - and he can't help but moan as he fucks her, his face covered in her fluid, his hips jerking rhythmically as he tries desperately not to come.

It's barely thirty seconds before she explodes for the third time, with a scream so loud and guttural it could easily wake the dead. Her body goes utterly slack in his arms and he very gently lowers her to the floor, murmuring how much he loves her while she recovers. He strips off his t-shirt and pajama pants and then helps Liv slowly to her feet. He watches her beautiful face as she takes in his naked body and sees her pupils dilate when she notices the size of his erection - he's not sure he's ever been this large before.

"Oh my god, Fitz," she breathes, and he draws her close and runs his hands greedily over her body, searching for the zipper of her dress.

"Let me do it," she says when it's clear he is struggling. He's feeling so lightheaded with desire, with the need to be inside her, that he gladly lets her undress herself. As soon as she's bare, she's in his arms again and he's kissing her ravenously as he guides her to the bed.

"I need… Liv…"

He abandons speech and instead gets her to kneel on the mattress on all fours. He remains standing and quickly parts her legs before entering her all the way to the hilt. She moans but it's nothing compared to the sound that comes out of his mouth - deep, rough, pained. She feels absolutely fucking incredible - _so _wet after her three orgasms. As he begins to thrust into her, hard and fast, gripping her hips, he thinks he's never known pleasure like this before.

"Baby, you feel… so…"

He still doesn't have the words so instead he just focuses on movement, on sensation, on the noises she's making. The tempo is rising and he's no longer able to control it, pounding into her as if his life depends on it.

"Fitz, you're… so deep… oh my god… I love you…"

Her words are his undoing. He comes hard, harder than ever before; digging his fingers into her skin and leaving bruises for her to find in the morning. She doesn't seem to care, sighing contentedly as they both collapse forwards so he's lying on her back, still inside of her. It takes him minutes, literally, to recover. He's never known anything like it before, and that's saying a lot because they _always_ have amazing sex.

Eventually Olivia murmurs something but he doesn't catch it because her face is buried in the sheet, and his brain doesn't seem to be working properly yet. He reluctantly pulls out and shifts off of her, allowing her to roll onto her side and face him. She smiles a truly beautiful smile and lifts one hand to brush back a sweaty curl from his forehead.

"I said, these sheets are insanely soft. It's almost like you're someone special."

It's only now that he can hear the slight slur of her speech, a combination of alcohol, tiredness and being quite thoroughly _fucked_.

"You're special," he counters, feeling exhausted himself. "You're so special, Livvie. I love you."

She kisses him sweetly, softly, before standing up and asking directions to the bathroom. It's a bizarre situation, that they've been in a relationship for over four years and this is the first time she's ever stayed over.

When she returns, Fitz has gotten under the covers and is fighting sleep. He pulls her into his arms and switches off the bedside light.

"Did you have a nice evening?" he asks, kissing and nuzzling her neck. "Sorry, I forgot to ask."

She giggles. "Yes, thank you. It was really fun. It would have been more fun if you'd been there, but I think we made up for it."

"Mm hmm."

"We're doing the flirty texting thing more often from now on, okay?"

"Absolutely."

"Good."

He's almost asleep a minute later when she suddenly turns over in his arms. "Fitz," she whispers urgently, "how the hell am I going to get out of here in the morning? I cannot do the walk of shame through the White House! And I remember you destroying yet _another_ pair of my panties."

"You can stay, then," he says sleepily. "Just don't go. Stay forever."

"Fitz- "

She tries to wriggle away but he holds her tighter. "Ssh, Livvie. Go to sleep. We'll figure it out in the morning."

"You're so bossy."

"I know. Night."

He can sense her pouting in the dark and it makes him smile. There is nothing he wouldn't do for this woman - not even smuggle her into and out of the White House, just so he can spend the night with her in his arms.

II

* * *

**A/N: **I would _love_ to hear your thoughts! Next up - life post-Presidency...


	6. January 2013 - Part Two

II

JANUARY 2013 - Part Two

It's just after lunch when his helicopter arrives on the front lawn, two hours after he leaves the White House for the final time. Olivia has been ridiculously nervous all morning, the realization suddenly having hit that_ this is it _\- this is them, living in Vermont, for the rest of their days.

It's the end of life as she's always known it - and it's the beginning of everything.

She watches him disembark, all long limbs and that overwhelming aura of Presidential power which she hopes will never fade, and feels her body twitch. She wants to run - to him. And in the same second that she chides herself for being so silly, so cliché, she _is_ running. Her heart thunders from more than exertion and when he glances up and sees her, the look on his face rips a sob from her throat. His smile could light up an entire state, and she knows how that feels because she has been lit up by Fitzgerald Grant and it is _everything_. He is everything and, finally, he's _here_.

His arms open wide and she crashes into him with enough force to make him take a few steps backwards, but she can't apologize because she just can't speak. Her face buried in his neck, her tears on his warm skin, she just breathes him in: her man. The love of her life. _Hers_. She is wrapped around him, her thighs gripping his hips, her arms locked around his shoulders: her whole world inside the circle of her limbs, chest to chest, heart to heart. Love to love.

Fitz to Liv and Liv to Fitz.

She feels his lips on her cheek, her jaw, and when she eventually draws back to look at him, his smile is the brightest it's ever been. "Hi Livvie."

_"Hi."_

There's the briefest pause, beautiful blue eyes trying to take her all in, all at once, and then suddenly they're laughing, because if they tried to hold in this amount of pure, effervescent joy for one second longer it would crack all their ribs from the inside out. When he kisses her it's mid-laugh, his mouth open, his lips curved. It's sweet, and then all of a sudden it's frantic. His joy has transformed into something else, something wild and desperate - she knows because hers has too. It's the way they both say _'I love you'_ when they don't have the words; it's clinging on when they feel like the sheer force of their love for one another is going to sweep them away.

It's about lust, of course it is, but not the same lust as when his hair is a mess and he's all arms crossed behind his head and biceps straining and sexy grin on his gorgeous face which turns everything inside of her to molten gold. No, this lust is the innocent kind: the kind that starts with a simple kiss and waits patiently until it's called. Then, it climbs into their bodies through fingertips which squeeze just a fraction too hard; through a sigh which has an edge, an unexpected note of possibility; through heavily-lidded eyes which meet and decide, in that split second, that a kiss will not satisfy this time. It's lust conjured from touch, from nearness, from _love_.

And it's something they are all too familiar with.

"Welcome home," Olivia manages to say around his tongue, around the beginnings of his erection between her thighs even as he's walking them back to the house. _Their_ house - his and hers. She wonders absently how long it will take her to think of it as hers, because right now it's still a dream which some incredible guy built for the luckiest woman in the world.

"God I love you," he growls into her mouth, and they're the sexiest four words he's ever said. She is quickly losing herself in him: in the magic and electricity which constantly surrounds them; in the pulsing, insistent heat rapidly flooding her core. He is totally overwhelming and she almost surrenders completely, but as he walks her across the threshold of their new home, reality kicks in. She has plans for them, and this is not part of the script.

"Fitz, wait," she breathes, tearing her mouth away from his. He ignores her, gripping her backside tighter as he draws his teeth along her jaw and down her neck. He purposefully hits all her most sensitive spots on his way, making her shiver and hold back a moan. "Wait. Fitz, stop!"

She pushes on his shoulders and he finally glances up at her, gently resting her on one of the stools in front of the kitchen counter.

"What?" He looks annoyed and ruffled and drop-dead gorgeous, his ears red, his breathing heavy. Olivia can feel the strength of his arousal between her legs, rock hard now and twitching impatiently.

"You can't just leave the Secret Service sat out there," she says, equally as breathless as he is. The way he kisses... she will never get over it; over _him_.

"I told them to give me ten minutes," Fitz shrugs, his lips flickering briefly into a mischievous smile before he dives in to kiss her again.

And again, Olivia pushes him back. She giggles as he tries to press his lips to any part of her skin he can reach. "No, no, no. Fitz. Fitz!"

She removes his wandering hands from her breasts and holds them in front of his chest, gazing up at him with what she's sure is a look of complete adoration, because that's how she is feeling right now. He truly is a beautiful man, one who walked away from the most powerful position in the land to be hers, and now... he_ is_. Today is the day she never thought would come - even after the press conference, after his divorce, she never dared believe they might actually make it - and it's just mind-blowing.

She loves him so much in that moment it makes her soul hurt.

"You've just carried me over the threshold of our new home," she says softly, running her fingertips down his smooth cheek. "We're here for the rest of our lives, Fitz. This is where we're going to have two babies and forty Christmases; where Teddy's going to grow up and I'm going to learn to make jam and then you and I, we're going to grow old watching sunsets on the porch together." With every word she speaks his eyes soften until he's looking at her in that way she's so familiar with; the way she will never get tired of - like she's his entire universe.

She drops her hand to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. "We made it, baby. We're on the other side. And we are _not_ having a ten minute quickie now when we have all the time in the world! I want you slow; I want to tease, to play. I want to spend the next two days rechristening every room in this house until the minute we leave for vacation."

Fitz smiles, showing off all his perfect teeth, and she can tell he wants to make some dirty comment but he lets her continue. She knows there is a part of him which thoroughly enjoys being bossed around by her. "So, _Former_ President Grant, you go back out there and get your bags, then show your agents to their new home. You also need to call your children and Mellie to see how Teddy is getting along at her parents', and then your PR team - Fiona phoned earlier and I told her you would."

Fiona King, founder of the best public relations firm in the country and an old acquaintance of Liv's, has been working with Fitz for the last four months, planning his return to the real world including the eventual announcement of their relationship. She is the only person who knows about them outside of OPA, Cyrus, James, Mellie and his children.

"I don't want to do any PR today," Fitz pouts, his hands now roaming down her body. "I don't want to think about or _do_ anything that isn't you, Olivia Pope."

"You just left the highest office in the world- "

"And Sally Langston just moved in. For the first time in four years, the focus _isn't_ on me, Liv. Let her and Daniel Douglas have the spotlight. I've given my final statement; I don't have anything else to say at the moment."

She wants to argue but she can sense he's no longer interested, his thumbs brushing back and forth over her hipbones, his gaze focused on her lips. "Fine. But please call Fiona anyway and let her know you'll be in touch soon."

"Okay," he says cutely, and Olivia falls in love with him all over again. It happens in a second: somewhere in her brain a burst of hormones is released, oxytocin and adrenaline and countless others, making her heart skip, her breath catch, her vision momentarily blur. Before she can even register what's happening he's speaking again and just like that, he's tilted her world on its axis and rearranged the stars - for the thousandth time. "What about you; what are you gonna do?"

She has to blink a couple of times to find the present. "I'm... going to go upstairs, take off my clothes, get comfortable in our bed..."

"Livvie," he groans, and this time when he tries to kiss her she is more than willing. Overwhelmed, she wraps her arms around his back and squeezes him to her. The way he gently cradles her face as he kisses her so tenderly, so thoroughly, brings tears to her eyes.

"I love you so much," she whispers, and he says it right back. They smile, their lips still touching. After a long moment Olivia draws away and they gaze at one another, very aware of the way the air is heating up around them.

"I should go back outside..."

"You should."

He kisses her one more time. "I can't believe you'll just... be here. There are no time limits, no crises for us to handle. No Cyrus to barge in right at the crucial moment."

She laughs, remembering that particular incident six months ago when she snuck off to join Fitz on an official visit to Chicago. "Thank god. I don't think his heart could survive that again."

"I don't think mine could," Fitz jokes, and she throws back her head and laughs some more. "You know," he goes on, "It's been almost ten minutes Livvie. We could have had that quickie after all."

She shakes her head, still giggling. "You are ridiculous. You realize the faster you get back outside and make those phone calls, the faster you can have me, right?"

It takes a second for realization to dawn on his handsome face. "You're a genius Miss Pope," he grins, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before he turns and practically runs back outside.

As she makes her way upstairs, still amused and overwhelmed and in love with the fact that they have actually just moved in together, Olivia finds herself thinking about all the moments that have led them to this point. The campaign trail: the flirting, the teasing; sexual tension so strong she still has no idea how no one else noticed. The complete and total honesty in his eyes every time he looked at her, in every word he spoke to her. He knew long before she did that they were meant to be - he fell in love much faster, but she ended up just as deep. He said it first but she was never far behind.

She thinks about Inauguration Day - or rather, the evening that followed. She can remember every single detail, from the cut of his shirt to the way he smelled; from the crackle of the fire to the feel of hard mahogany beneath her thighs. The President of the United States made love to her in the Oval Office on the most important day of his life and yet to her he was just Fitz, and she was just his Livvie.

She remembers Cyrus and James' wedding on a spring day in Vermont, two months after she left him and the White House and all the pain that came with loving a man who wasn't hers to love. Until he came to her in his Navy sweatshirt, until he gave her the ring she has worn every day since, until he told her he just wanted her to be happy and shattered her heart into a million pieces, she didn't realize he had failed to understand why she left. That it wasn't because she didn't love him enough - that it was because she loved him too much. She loved him more than anything, more than was rational, more than her sanity would allow. She loved him then like she loves him now - wholly, unquestionably and eternally. Except now he is hers to love and that... that is everything.

She recalls the night he came to her apartment and ran out the clock with her; the night he chose her, _earned_ her. The incredible, terrifying feeling that they might still have a chance; that she might still be able to have him. And then the very next day, when he announced to the world that he was going to divorce his wife and resign after his first term, making history for the world - and starting a new chapter in their story. She spent the following week reaching for her phone, re-reading articles and comments and analyses to make sure she hadn't dreamed the whole thing.

She smiles to herself when she pictures David Rosen's face as she finally told him that _she_ was the woman the President 'banged'. He had proved himself with Defiance and he knew there was something nobody was telling him, so one day when she could no longer take any more of his ridiculous speculating she just blurted it out. "It was me, David! It _is_ me. I'm the other woman. I'm _banging_ the President. Except to me he's just Fitz and it's not just sex - he's the love of my life. We love one another. He is going to resign so that we can be together. I have never benefitted professionally from my relationship with him; no laws have been broken. We are keeping it a secret until his divorce is finalized, and probably until after his term's ended. I'm sure you can be trusted to keep quiet, and I don't need to remind you that if this gets out all our lives at OPA will be over as we know them. Now, I would appreciate it if you would stop obsessing over gossip and get on with some work. Are we clear?" He just gaped at her for a full fifteen seconds, and it was so comical that she actually smiled to herself as she left the conference room.

She thinks about the words of her OPA team - her friends - when she brought them all together a couple of months ago to inform them of her intended relocation to Vermont. She and Fitz had still to definitively decide how their arrangement would work and she wanted their opinions. Their current plan was to spend Monday through Wednesday in D.C. where she could be in the office and meet with clients, and Fitz... Well, so far he had no idea what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, and until he decided he was more than content to just be Teddy's dad and Olivia Pope's other half; to take care of his family, to ensure they were looked after and healthy and happy.

Olivia had relayed most of this to her team. "I will always be on the end of the phone and, if necessary, sometimes we could stay until Thursday or Fri-"

But Huck, of all people, had cut her off. "No, Liv. Monday to Wednesday is more than enough. You deserve your life with him in Vermont. You don't see the way he looks at you, the way his eyes never leave you even for a second. You're his entire world, and we all know that he's yours. You've given up so much for him, for all of us, and now it's finally your turn to be happy. So you can come Monday to Wednesday, and we will only call you outside those days if we absolutely have to."

"Otherwise we want you in Vermont," Abby added as Olivia just stared at them both, "Barefoot and sexed up and no doubt pregnant before the end of next year."

"The end of next year?" Harrison chimed in, shaking his head and grinning. "I bet you she'll be carrying baby Grant by the summer."

"I vote spring," Quinn said, and everyone turned to her. "What? Like Huck said, the way the President looks at her..."

"Okay, that's enough," Olivia interrupted as she stood up. Her voice was harsher than she intended, no doubt because of the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. To hear her friends talk about her relationship with Fitz, to hear the simple honesty in Huck's beautiful words, was too much. She could feel tears shining in her eyes as she looked at each of them. "I don't know what to say. Thank you. I love you all, so much."

And then her voice cracked and Abby leapt up to hug her as she began to cry. It only took ten seconds to pull herself together, but she appreciated her best friend's embrace. "Sorry, this is stupid. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Maybe you're already knocked up," David quipped, and Liv laughed despite herself.

"No, Rosen. Definitely not. And seriously, there will be no betting on my fertility, okay? Now, shall we get back to this case? I want a summary of everything we know so far in five minutes."

As the group returned to their work, Abby led her away to the kitchen. "Liv, I just want to say... I am so happy for you. You're my sister, my bestie, my BFF. You're an incredible Gladiator, and an even better friend. You are going to be so loved in Vermont, and so missed here."

"Abby." They hugged again as more tears spilled onto Olivia's cheeks. "I'll still be here every week. And you can visit us any time you like."

"Oh yeah, and interrupt all your sexy times? No thank you. I do not need the image of the President's ass imprinted on my retinas for the rest of my life!"

Now, in her bedroom in Vermont, Olivia still feels emotional thinking about that day in the office. She is so lucky, so blessed with the people in her life, that sometimes she can't actually believe it. And she especially can't believe Fitz is really hers, not when she hears his footsteps on the stairs and then he's striding into their bedroom, all confidence and blue eyes and sex appeal as he comes for her. She doesn't even get time to breathe before he is ravishing her, drawing her closer to him as he lays them both back on the bed, kissing her like he's been starved of her for years. They don't speak as they rid him of his clothes - suddenly the air is too hot, the need to be naked together too urgent. He kisses every inch of her body, from the soles of her feet to her forehead and everything in between, and it feels like an hour has passed, or maybe just a minute, she can't tell.

When he's finally inside her, filling her so exquisitely it makes her toes curl, they just stare at one another as they move together and fall apart at the same time. There is nothing in the world that compares to this: to being surrounded by him as he loves her so tenderly; to being cherished, completely adored. He owns her - she belongs to him - and she knows her eyes are telling him so, just as his eyes are telling her the same in return.

He picks up their pace and kisses her to within an inch of her life, until the only air for her to breathe is his; until she splinters and breaks with tears on her eyelashes because sometimes, being loved by him is just too much to comprehend. "I love you," she whispers, over and over, as he breaks too.

"_Livvie_."

She kisses every inch of his face as he slowly comes down from his high, and then they roll onto their sides and she continues to kiss him - she can't stop herself. She could kiss him forever. She could lie in this bed and travel to every corner of his body with her mouth and never, ever get enough of him.

It seems like a long time until he finally speaks and Olivia just gazes at him, hanging on his every word, totally in love. "Sweet baby, that was incredible. You are _beautiful_, and I am so in love with you."

She smiles giddily, so happy she thinks she might burst. "Best housewarming ever," she murmurs and he laughs.

"Absolutely. Can you believe it?"

"No. I still feel like I'm dreaming."

He pinches her ass and she squeals. "Sorry, just checking," he teases. He leans in to kiss her, sweetly at first, but she can feel him hardening inside of her as his tongue slips into her mouth. She moans his name and he pulls back for the briefest second to ask, "Which room's next?" before claiming her once again.

II

**A/N:** **Your reviews mean the world to me, thank you so much. I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. From here on in, it's Olitz in Vermont...**


	7. January 2013 - Part Three

**A/N: once again, your feedback is amazing and I can't thank you enough. So happy you're enjoying the story.**

**I know I promised you Olitz in Vermont - but, I lied... **

II

_January 2013 – Part Three_

They are in paradise. Real, true, actual paradise. And it's not just the white sand and turquoise Caribbean sea; not the exquisite, sprawling villa which is the only one this side of the island, with its pool and hot tub and master bedroom opening right onto the beach. No, for Fitz and Olivia their paradise is each other. He finally left the White House six days ago after four years in residence there and now, for the first time, they are free to be together with no ties, no hiding, no hurry.

And they don't hurry. Or rather, Fitz doesn't: not when he's lying between her legs on their enormous bed, lazily drawing all over her with his tongue, coaxing her through orgasm after orgasm until she doesn't even remember her own name. They've been on vacation for seventy two hours and she's already lost count. It's exhausting, but in the absolute best way imaginable. She has never been this happy, _ever_. She didn't know happiness like this existed; is staggered that she has survived for over thirty years without it.

It's the little things which thrill her most, like waking up first and being able to secretly study him. His mess of brown curls on the pillow, falling carelessly onto his forehead which is relaxed, unworried, unlined. Olivia thinks his dreams must finally be peaceful - hers are. She admires his nose and has to stop herself from running her finger along its length; gazes at his lips for a long time - too long - and has to stop herself from kissing him awake. She is so very tempted, but she knows he needs as much rest as he can get. He has four years of sleep to catch up on after all, not to mention the physical exertion they're putting each other through on an exhaustingly regular basis.

For the last three mornings she has waited until he wakes, both patient and impatient: she could watch him sleeping calmly forever and yet at the same time she misses him ridiculously, like they've been apart for years, not naked and intertwined overnight. She longs for the moment his eyelids flutter; holds her breath in anticipation of his eyes opening, of those brilliant blue irises sparkling to life against the backdrop of their big white bed. She can see everything in his eyes from the second they open, before he's even awake enough to realize where he is: that he's happy; that he loves her; that she's his whole world. She's so ingrained in him now that, even semiconscious, she is there in his every thought.

Olivia watches now as his gaze darkens - it only takes five, ten seconds - because he's noticed she's naked and remembered where they are and why, and he _wants_ her. "Morning, gorgeous," he says, his voice deep and rough, like honey and sandpaper and sex. He smiles and his eyes glint mischievously as he pulls her on top of him so she is straddling his waist. The sheet falls to her hips and she just sits there as he admires her unashamedly, his hands running over her thighs, his morning erection nestled at their apex and growing every second. Behind them, the sounds of the ocean swirl into the room on the warm morning breeze and a shiver courses through her body, making her nipples perk up and flooding her core with heat. He notices all of this, and a little groan escapes him.

"You are so fucking beautiful, Livvie. I missed you overnight. How is that even possible?"

The way he tilts his head to the side, just slightly, as he contemplates his own words - her very same thoughts - makes her heart swell in her chest and muscles deep within her clench tightly. Whenever he swears it turns her on for reasons beyond her comprehension, but coupled with the way he's looking at her - the way he always looks at her, like it's the very first time - and the overwhelming amount of love for him that is threatening to burst out of her, Olivia wastes no more time in lifting her hips and joining them together. She hasn't even spoken a word to him this morning and he's inside of her. It's wild and unbelievable and she hopes it will last forever: this irresistible magnetism; this constant craving; this absolute insatiability.

She makes love to him using all his favorite moves, kissing him in all the places she knows he likes best, riding him until he can barely keep his eyes open; until his abs tense and his fingers dig into her hips and he comes with her name on his lips like a salutation, a hallelujah. She didn't finish but that doesn't matter - this wasn't about her, it was about making her man feel amazing. He is always so generous with his time, his love, his _mouth_, and she fully understands why: because giving pleasure is immeasurably satisfying in its own right. It turns her on; it makes her feel sexy and powerful. But more than that - it makes Fitz happy, and that is all she wants in life now.

"Good morning?" she says, making it a question, unable to keep the laugh out of her voice.

"I've had worse." He grins and sits up, wrapping her in his arms as he begins kissing his neck. His light stubble tickles her skin in the most delicious way and it's just seconds before he's lifting her up and carrying her into the bathroom. He starts the shower and finally sets her on her feet beneath it. The showerhead is so vast it's like standing beneath a cloud of warm rain, and it's one of the very many luxuries she loves about this villa.

"Turn around," he commands, and then his soapy hands begin their assault on her already_ very_ sensitive body. He wastes no time in reacquainting himself with her aching breasts, his fingers spreading fire from her nipples straight to her center. It's so unbelievably arousing she doesn't quite know what to do with herself. She wants to fall to the floor and dissolve into him and be fucked hard against the wall all at the same time.

"Fitz," she whimpers, already breathless. He's hard and hot behind her, his mouth once again on her neck, and he growls low in his throat when he hears his name.

"Say it again," he demands, alternating between rolling her nipples between his fingertips and kneading her breasts with his palms. The ache between her thighs is thundering now, desperate and insistent, taking over every single thought in her head except one:

"_Fitz." _

"Keep going. Don't stop, baby. Don't hold back. I want to hear you."

Olivia moans, more than willing to obey orders. He is so sexy when he's in charge; when he's so commanding and alpha-male and _Presidential_.

"Fitz, I need… touch me… _please_."

"I am touching you, Livvie."

"Not enough," she groans, grinding her ass against him, desperate for any kind of friction on any part of her poor, tortured body.

"Where would you like me to touch you?" he asks, and she can't fathom how he can sound so patient and amused when she feels like she's about to explode with need.

She can barely form any more words so instead takes his left hand from her chest and tugs it downwards. He chuckles and bites on her neck hard - hard enough to leave a mark - and she knows she's in trouble. "Oh Livvie," he sighs, "I told you I want to _hear_ you."

He withdraws from her completely then and the loss of his body, his hands, his heat, shocks her so suddenly it's as if the shower's turned icy cold. She cries out desperately in frustration and looks over her shoulder for him, but there's a lot of steam and there's water in her eyes. She's only certain of his whereabouts when he gently pushes her forwards, out of the spray and towards the wall. He doesn't stop until she's up against it and then he pulls her hips back a few inches, nestling her bottom in the cradle of his pelvis, his erection fitting perfectly between her cheeks.

Now, the only parts of her still in contact with the wall are her arms, braced either side of her, her forehead and - as he intended - her nipples. Fitz, his dominance, their position and the cool tile against her most sensitive skin is just _so_ erotic. She moans out his name, a plea, and then the hands he has just soaped up are on her again and she almost comes on contact.

"You're so wet," he breathes against her ear, his chest pressed to her back, the fingers of his left hand sliding between her folds. His right glides up and down her abdomen, further sensitizing her already-over stimulated skin. When his left middle finger enters her she gasps and pushes back against him, her nipples breaking contact with the wall. Fitz nudges her forwards again and when she reconnects, the instant coolness sends a lightening bolt of need straight to her core.

"Fuck, baby, that was insane," he groans, and she feels his hips bucking helplessly against her. "You just got so much wetter then." He slips a second finger inside her, curling them to tease her spot, and Olivia is so desperate for him to touch her clit and make her come that she turns her head and bites down on her wrist to try and ease her anguish.

It's no good. He keeps pulling her back and then reuniting her chest with the wall, matching the rhythm of his fingers as he fucks her lazily, unhurriedly, like he has all the time in the world. She, on the other hand, is a ticking time bomb. She can't remember having ever been this turned on, this completely desperate to reach her orgasm. She can't even breathe properly: she's just panting, whimpering; trying to find the words to tell him what she wants and failing miserably.

"You've gone quiet Livvie. What's the matter? I said I wanted to hear you."

And at this, she lets out a moan so full of longing it almost sounds like a scream. He obviously recognizes that she is at her absolute limit because he immediately withdraws his fingers from her and begins rubbing her clit, his pressure firm and relentless and _heavenly_. The heat that spreads through her is all-consuming and she's already in that glorious place, right on the edge, where all she knows is the sweetest pleasure and she _never_ wants it to end.

But she is about to fall no matter how long she tries to resist, and she's just seconds away when his right hand slides around her hip, down over her ass and between her legs from behind. His fingers fill her again - maybe three of them now, she's not sure, she doesn't care - and she breaks apart, shattering completely from her head to her toes, every muscle spasming, every nerve cell in her body exploding like fireworks. He continues to fuck her, continues to grind his cock against her as he presses kisses up and down her spine.

Then, when she has calmed a little, he turns her in his arms and lifts her up, pinning her against the wall once again. He's inside her seconds later, filling her so much better than his fingers ever could, so deep because she's so wet, her orgasm still flickering inside of her.

"Fuck," she whimpers, gazing into his eyes and finding them so dark with desire, so hazy with lust, so alive with love. "That was… incredible, Fitz. I… _Fuck!_"

He's already pounding into her, hard and fast and right at the edge of his control, and Olivia lets her eyes fall shut as she finally kisses him. His tongue immediately welcomes hers like he's been waiting for her his entire life; like he would wait for eternity and still never get enough of her. Kissing him like this - all lips and teeth and swallowing each other's moans; uninhibited, ravenous and wild - is just so erotic. He has been known to bring her to the brink of orgasm with kisses alone, both of them fully clothed on her sofa; eventually, after much begging, finishing her off with a couple of flicks of his fingers through the material of her leggings. The power he has over her body is incredible: he intuitively speaks its language; anticipates its every desire; meticulously uncovers all its deepest secrets and cherishes them close to his heart. He knows everything about her now and, for the first time in her life, it makes her feel _free_.

Fitz comes in no time at all and she thinks their kisses must have the same effect on him as they do on her. He's speechless, breathing heavily against her throat, and all she can do is smile as she runs her hands through his wet curls because this is her life now. This is _normality_ for them: lazy mornings, shower sex, unquenchable love.

"I love you, Olivia," he murmurs, his lips pressed to her damp skin. "I… love… you."

When he finally looks up and smiles at her, she thinks her heart might explode with love for him. "You too. Always."

He gently pulls out of her and sets her down on shaky legs. The shower is still running and he kisses her as he draws her beneath the water. She lets him wash her from head to toe then returns the favor, marveling at the muscles beneath her palms. Every time she thinks she knows his body, she discovers something else: a freckle on his back, just above his butt; the point at which his earlobes join the angle of his jaw; the exact contours of his belly button which she always forgets, so ubiquitous and yet so unique.

"What time is it?" he asks through a yawn as they dry off with the fluffiest white towels she's ever had the pleasure of using. Then again, she'd expect nothing less when the villa's owner is one of the richest Sheiks in the Middle East. She always thought she had connections, but dating the President of the United States is a different ball game altogether.

"I have no idea," she admits, hanging up her towel and wandering to their bedroom doors which have been open all night, the sound of the waves lulling them to sleep. The sun is halfway up the sky now and it's already swelteringly hot outside, but the breeze is enough to keep the room comfortable. For a minute she just gazes out at the turquoise ocean, the dazzling white sand, the absolute tranquility of nature, thinking how truly blessed they are to be here.

She feels Fitz wrap his arms around her, tucking his chin over her shoulder and nuzzling his nose against her cheek. "I'm going back to bed. You're tiring me out, woman."

Olivia smiles and runs her hands along his forearms, linking her fingers through his where they rest against her bare abdomen. "I'm not sorry."

He chuckles. "I don't want you to be."

She turns in his arms and they just smile at one another, completely smitten. "What are you gonna do?" he asks sweetly, resting his forehead against hers.

"I don't know. Maybe some lengths in the pool, order some breakfast, sunbathe for an hour or two…"

But even as the words leave her mouth, they both know she won't do any of those things. If he's going to bed then so is she. They are so inseparable, they've hardly spent five minutes apart since he landed in Vermont a week ago. They follow each other around as if drawn by some invisible force. If she's sunbathing and he goes inside to make them a drink, she barely lasts sixty seconds before she's getting up and tracing his steps to the kitchen. She'll watch him, studying the way his body moves, but she'll soon be unable to resist wrapping her arms around him, her cheek pressed against the warm skin between his shoulder blades, her palms flat on his well-defined abs. She clings to him like a limpet, making a nuisance of herself, trying not to stand on his heels while he moves around, chopping pineapple, mixing rum and fresh coconut juice. He laughs the whole time because she's being ridiculous and he just loves her _so_ much.

He finally pours his concoction into one large glass, which they'll share because they've waited so long and they just want to share everything now, and he hands it to her before scooping her up into his arms and kissing her soundly on the mouth. "You, Olivia Pope, are unbelievably cute. And unbelievably annoying."

"But mainly cute, right?" She shows him her sweetest face, all wide eyes and soft smile, and his gaze becomes a little hazy before he kisses her again.

"Mainly. It's actually annoying how cute you are, sometimes."

It's funny - she has never been a cute person in her entire life. Cute is the last word that anyone who knows her would _ever_ associate with her. But with him, _for_ him, she wants to be the cutest. She wants to conjure that look in his eyes where all the love he feels for her just comes shining out and he's utterly powerless to stop it. She wants him to kiss her scrunched up nose and breathe her in and squeeze her body tightly against his. She wants to be everything, do everything, live through everything with him.

And at the same time, she just wants to lie with him on a sun lounger on their own tropical beach, their limbs intertwined, simply gazing into his blue eyes while his thumb traces slow circles on the palm of her hand. Where they just exist, together. Where they can just _be_. Where he's not the former President and she's not the Fixer; where she doesn't have to worry about getting along with his children, becoming a stepmother to his youngest son; about announcing their relationship to the whole world because apparently the whole world cares more about other people's lives than about their own. Where Fitz doesn't feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders: responsibility to do something with the power he still has; to change something, to make a difference; to prove to everyone, himself included, that all the great ideas he has had in the last four years can exist beyond his term in office, can truly change lives.

Despite everything they've been through to get to this point, they are just at the beginning of their journey. And while, in a past life, Olivia would have been terrified of facing this unknown future without a plan (and a plan B), now she is just so excited to tackle it all with Fitz by her side. She knows without a shadow of a doubt that together they can do anything, _everything_. They bring out the best in each other; they are each other's greatest strength. And she just feels so incredibly lucky to have found him, the other half of her soul; to have found this challenging, soul-stirring, inexhaustible, _extraordinary_ love.

That's what draws her to him, when they're side by side on the couch but she's not close enough until she's sitting in his lap. That's what makes her breath catch in her throat as they gaze at one another; as her heart begins to race and the world falls away from beneath them. That's what makes her kiss him until she's dizzy; until their clothes fall off and she can show him what it feels like to be loved so extraordinarily.

II

It's their fourth night in paradise and they are drunk. Very drunk. A long day of sunbathing and relaxing; of sharing naps and sleepy waking kisses; of almost a whole bottle of Caribbean rum since lunch time, poured freely into drinks with far too little mixer. Now they are a giggling heap of limbs on the living room floor, laughing at nothing and everything, reveling in the warmth of each other's sun-kissed skin. They are so tightly wound together there's nothing separating them, not even the warm evening air. Outside the sky is a magnificent spectrum of pinks and violets but they barely even notice - it could be on fire for all they'd care right now.

"Livvie, you're a bad girl," Fitz growls, his voice low and dangerous. "I _really_ want to spank you." He rolls them so she's on top of him, making her squeal. His left hand connects sharply with her ass, just hard enough to sting, and her back arches as she feels another pool of moisture gather between her thighs. She doesn't remove her hand from inside the front of his swim shorts, just carries on stroking him between their bodies.

"I am a bad girl," she murmurs, grazing her lips feather-light over his before sitting up. She picks up her cocktail glass in her free hand - eighty percent rum, at a guess; she's long since stopped measuring as she pours - and takes a drink, her eyes never leaving his. Keeping a small amount of crushed ice on her tongue, she leans down and presses her cold mouth to his warm chest. Fitz gasps and lets his head fall back, and she feels his cock twitch in her palm.

She begins a trail of cool kisses all down his body, pulling his shorts off as she goes. In a world where everything has started to blur at the edges, his erection stands clear as day in the center of her vision from where she is now kneeling between his legs. Suddenly she finds she's giggling again and he opens his eyes and frowns at her.

"What?"

"Nothing." She strokes him up and down, apologizing; he graciously accepts. "I was just imagining what the American people would think if they could see you right now, _Mr President_."

He growls again, and she feels him grow even harder against her hand. She knows what it does to him when she calls him by that title; she knows that when he inevitably snaps, the way he fucks her will be out-of-this-_world_-amazing. She takes him into her mouth now, as far as she physically can, alcohol and desire making her needy and eager to please. Moving her head up and down is making her dizzy but she does it anyway, loving the way his hips jerk and the noises that are just for her. Her own arousal is pulsing deep in her core, so distracting it takes all her hazy focus to carry out the task at hand.

Time seems slow and quick at the same time, and she can't tell how long it is before he's pulling her up his body again. His kisses are wet in the most delicious way and he just _devours_ her - there's no other word for it. The inside of his mouth tastes of rum and mint and she doesn't think she'll ever get enough. He rolls her onto her back and tugs her bikini top down, freeing her breasts; uninterested in actually undoing the ties.

"Livvie you're so fucking sexy," he breathes, grazing her nipple with his teeth and then lapping at it with his tongue, making her writhe around as desire courses wildly through her body. "How did I end up with you? How did I get so lucky?"

He moves downwards, rolling her nipples between his fingers as he presses open-mouthed kisses to her abdomen, her hipbones. He bites on the inside of her thigh, harder than he normally would because the alcohol has dulled his depth perception, but she doesn't mind at all because when he is this carnal, this animalistic, it is just electrifying. When he pulls off her bikini bottoms and sucks her clit into his mouth, swirling his warm tongue over her, she almost explodes.

"_OhmygodFitz!"_

"Mmm," he moans, licking her from bottom to top, his hands lifting her ass off the floor to open her up fully to his hungry mouth. "It's Mr President to you." He buries his tongue inside her, his nose rubbing her clit, and Olivia is close to the edge when, after just a few glorious seconds, he suddenly sits up.

"Turn over," he commands, impatiently moving her body into position on all fours. He slides one long finger between her legs, along her slit and then back down and inside of her, and she can barely think she's so aroused. Then she feels his hand connect with her backside again and everything clenches deliciously as pain instantly becomes pleasure. He has spanked her before, playfully, when she's riding him or when he's fucking her from behind, but he's never done it in character, as a punishment for some fantasy crime.

It might just be the most erotic thing she's ever experienced.

He slaps her a second time and she moans, loudly, letting him know she is enjoying herself as much as he is. She suspects he can already tell by the fact she is dripping wet, and he slips a second finger inside of her.

"If anyone was watching us right now, what would they see?" His voice is so rough Olivia is surprised it doesn't hurt his throat.

It takes all her wits, through the fog of arousal and rum, to form a reply. "They'd see you, Mr President… so hot… fucking me with your…"

She trails off because he pulls his fingers away and the next thing she knows, his mouth is on her from behind. He lifts her hips and she lets her shoulders relax so her chest comes to rest on the floor, opening her up intimately to him once again. His tongue replaces his digits and it feels so incredible, their position so erotic, that she is hanging right on the edge.

"Keep talking," he says, his voice buried as he licks at her ferociously, ravenously.

"I can't," she whispers, and she feels his hand spreading her thighs even further apart. "I'm so… so close…"

"You can," he counters, sucking her flesh into his mouth. "Describe how it feels when the President licks you out." He plunges his tongue into her two, three, four times. "Tell me what it looks like when he's jerking off behind you because you taste _so… fucking… good_."

That image in her mind is swelteringly hot, and she realizes she's been able to hear him all along. "It's… I… I _can't_…"

His mouth is on her again, the tip of his tongue just reaching her swollen clit, and when he groans she realizes he's passed the point at which he actually needs her to answer, to obey. His free hand grips her thigh as their moans escalate together, and then she's right at the edge and she's tensing… _falling_… _exploding_ out from his mouth to the tips of her fingers, her toes, everything in between. He laps at her until she's whimpering and then she feels the loss of him until he's kneeling right behind her, his knuckles brushing against her ass as he strokes himself furiously. He comes seconds later with her name on his lips, spilling himself onto her back, breathless and panting.

Olivia finally collapses, lying flat on her stomach, unable and unwilling to move. Her head is fuzzy, post-orgasmic and still drunk, and she's vaguely aware of Fitz leaving, returning a minute later with a wash cloth to clean up his mess. He turns off the lights and lies down beside her, covering them with a throw from the couch. They gaze at one another in the light of the moon, listening to the gentle crash of waves on the shore, their eyelids drooping, silly smiles on their lips.

"Why Mr President," she says coyly, linking the fingers of her right hand through his left. "You do have a dirty mouth."

He grins. "I didn't hear you complaining when this dirty mouth was making you see stars."

"I'm not complaining. _Definitely_ not. That position was _so_ hot."

Fitz leans closer to kiss her, and she just about has enough energy to raise her head and meet his lips. "If that's what happens, I'm going to be a _very_ bad girl in future," she says through a yawn. "I loved the spanking."

"I think you're going to be a very hungover girl tomorrow, baby." He strokes his index finger down her cheek and she can no longer keep her eyes open. She feels so content, so sleepy, so utterly sated, that she is rapidly losing touch with the conscious world. "I can't spank you when you're grouchy and irritable."

"I'm never grouchy and irritable," she protests, and he chuckles.

"Okay dear." She feels him kiss her shoulder as he spoons up against her side. "Goodnight, sweet Livvie. Sleep tight."

"Night, Mr…"

But she's asleep before she can even finish.

II

_To be continued…_


End file.
